Wild Thunder

“And what would you do were you chief and had choices to make about such deeds done today, Proud Heart?” Strong Wolf challenged. “One day you alone, when you are chief, will have to make choices like those facing me today, for your people.”

“I would not have to think hard and long about that,” Proud Heart said, his jaw tightening. “I would say go and destroy Jeremiah Bryant’s ranch, but be careful not to kill any more white men.”

Proud Heart looked down at his friend who lay dead in the sun, then looked at the Potawatomis warriors who always wished to see another sunrise so that they would be there for their children. “There have been enough killings today,” he mumbled.

“Your thoughts match my own,” Strong Wolf said, nodding.

He lifted Son of Sky into his arms and carried him to his horse. He nodded to a warrior who knew by the silent order to remove the deer that now lay behind Strong Wolf’s saddle.

The warrior removed the deer and placed it on his own horse, while Strong Wolf tied Son of Sky on his.

“The deer,” White Beaver said. “What are we to do with them?”

“Did I not give my word to Patrick that I would bring more meat for his soldiers’ tables?” Strong Wolf said, mounting his horse.

White Beaver nodded as he slowly swung himself into his saddle.

“I keep my word,” Strong Wolf grumbled. “We will take the meat to the fort, then go home and deliver the dead to his loved ones. Then we will make plans for an attack. We will avenge the deaths of our downed brother!”

“It could start a war,” Proud Heart said, eyeing Strong Wolf carefully.

“What we do is right, and let the white soldiers come. They will soon know they should not interfere in our time of vengeance,” Strong Wolf said coldly. “I tire of having to look the other way when things against our people continue to happen!”

He gazed down at the three dead white men. Then he nodded to two of his warriors who had no deer tied to their steeds. “Get the white men,” he flatly ordered. “We shall deliver them as well as deliver the meat.”

“One look at the dead white men will cause us to become surrounded by soldiers,” White Beaver softly argued.

“You do not understand,” Strong Wolf said, leaning closer to White Beaver. “First we deliver these dead white men to Jeremiah Bryant’s land. We leave them to be found by them, not by soldiers. Then we deliver the deer.”

They rode off. They first threw the dead white men at the far edge of Jeremiah Bryant’s ranch, then went and dumped the deer just outside of the gate at the fort.

When soldiers came and gaped openly at Strong Wolf, and then at the one fallen brother tied to the horse, Strong Wolf gazed at them with a silent loathing.

“Take the meat to your colonel, and also take him the news that, while hunting for meat for your tables, white men came and killed my brave as though he were nothing less than deer meat himself!” he shouted.

He then rode away, his heart thumping wildly within his chest, his anger so deep and hard to control.

He rode without stopping until he reached his village. Long shadows rippled over the ground, and as he gazed heavenward, he spied the Milky Way.

“Oh, bridge

of souls,” he whispered. “Where souls pass from one life to the other. Tonight, welcome one more of my people!”

Then he delivered the dead to the door of his family.

Strong Wolf cringed and closed his eyes as the wailing began.

Chapter 24

I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high,

O’er vales and hills.

—WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Like a firefly, the moon broke through the trees. Strong Wolf rode through the night with his warriors. They all wore war shirts made from a soft piece of buckskin with buffalo hair fringe on the sleeves and across the front. Red, blue, yellow, and white quills were sewn on them, each color of quills radiating from the other.

When Jeremiah Bryant’s ranch came into sight, Strong Wolf lifted his rifle into the air as a silent command for his men to stop.